Kargil came out of the blue, or rather the white of Himalayan mountaintops, for the Atal Behari Vajpayee government. Not to mince any words, Kargil was a massive intelligence failure. For months armed men had been creating a bulwark from which they could threaten Indian defense forces and, prospectively, the stability of Jammu and Kashmir, and the government in Delhi had absolutely no idea of what was happening, not on the Pakistani side of the Line of Control but on the Indian side. Three factors shaped the story of Kargil.
The first, and most important, was the capability of the Indian security forces and systems. Once the Indian armed forces became aware of the extent of their challenge, they did not need any further psychological persuasion. Pepsi has probably never had a more successful slogan than the line that still swims across the audiovisual waves: “Yeh dil maange more!” That is what the Indian jawans were saying as they mobilized and climbed up toward the peaks that had been lost to intruders.
The second was the ability of the Bharatiya Janata Party government to convert an administrative disaster into a political coup. Crucial to this turnaround was the credibility of Prime Minister Vajpayee, then higher than ever thanks to a disastrous victory won by the opposition in parliament. A no-confidence motion against the Vajpayee government had been carried by one controversial vote, and instead of offering an alternative government, a dysfunctional opposition fractured in full view of television cameras. Amar Singh and Mulayam Singh Yadav tripped Sonia Gandhi’s efforts to lead a new government; while she gave sufficient evidence of the fact that no one had taught her to use the political abacus. In comparison, Vajpayee, with the help of Information and Broadcasting Minister Pramod Mahajan, was brilliant in the management of a war environment and particularly in the use they made of the betrayal of their Lahore initiative. By the end of the Kargil war, and before the beginning of the general election, the voter was telling Vajpayee: “Yeh dil mange more!”
The third was the inability of the opposition parties, and particularly the Congress, to formulate a viable response. They were buried in an avalanche, and whatever Sonia Gandhi managed to suggest from under the Kargil snow sounded weak, unconvincing and often contradictory. She was given what can only be described as typical Congress advice by those in the party who have made seniority their principal virtue. They told her that the government should not be criticized because that would be the unpopular thing to do. Sonia Gandhi, perhaps also nervous about her status as a person of foreign origin, was unable to draw a dividing line between support for a national cause, the war effort, and criticism of those who had allowed the situation to deteriorate on the borders. The Communists of Bengal, who are articulate and understand politics, did so and preserved their base. No voter thought Jyoti Basu was unpatriotic.
The BJP has convinced itself that the startling mission that broke through the outer security cordons of parliament and nearly pulled off a remarkable terrorist achievement is the starting point of its return to the public favor that it has lost during two years of mismanagement. I deliberately do not call it a suicide mission, because while the terrorists were certainly ready to risk their lives, death was not part of their end-game. As is now clear from the available evidence or equipment and supplies that they carried, they wanted to hold a sufficient number of the highest rung of politicians hostage and then bargain with the Indian government over at least 10 days to get a number of demands met. This was a Kandahar operation on a far more dramatic and demanding level. The five terrorists had a last full meal at Karim’s in the Jama Masjid area before their operation, but it was not meant to be a last breakfast. They carried with them enough nourishment to last 10 days. I suppose they had estimated that it would take about this long for the will of the government to crumble.
At least one parallel with Kargil works, which is why a government that might have crumbled along with any collapse of nerve is enthused about revival instead. Once the security apparatus of Delhi understood the level of the challenge, and it did so in remarkably quick time, it responded with efficiency and effect. Senior police officials will still ask why sharpshooters used so many rounds, but that is only a part of the drill for even better capability. A grateful government is not counting the number of rounds.
A second parallel is also becoming manifest. Luck. If the Vajpayee government had been replaced after the no-confidence vote two and a half years ago, and a prime minister like Jyoti Basu been in the chair when Kargil broke, one can imagine the havoc that he would have wreaked politically on the BJP. The armed forces would have done their job irrespective of whether their prime minister was Vajpayee or Basu since both have the good sense not to interfere with professionals, and provide all the logistical support they need. But a non-BJP prime minister would have used the information available to tell people how the previous government was sleeping while the mountains on the Line of Control were awake with preparations for war. On Dec. 13 as well, luck was on the side of the government. After their car had crossed the outer security ring, the terrorists discovered that they were prevented from reaching the main and most vulnerable entrance of parliament by the oldest reason in the modern world — a traffic jam. There were just too many cars in queue, for the hour they chose is the busiest moment of arrivals. It was this that probably forced them to choose the entrance at which Vice President Krishan Kant’s extra security was posted. They hit the vice president’s car, and in that instance all their plans went awry. We can ask ourselves, endlessly, as to why they did this, or why they did not do that. But pause for a moment and consider. Men in such an operation are most effective when they do exactly what they have been programmed to do. They are not trained to think of rational alternatives. At best they work, in those fleeting seconds, on instinct. Instinct cannot take you beyond a limited range. If even a couple of them had managed to break through into the inner circle and enter a single room occupied by MPs or ministers, the story would have been different.
The symmetry stops being parallel, and it all becomes an embarrassing square with the third factor. There is one reference to Kargil that the government is trying hard to forget: the coffin scam, extraordinary not so much for the money involved but for the sheer audacity. That the Defense Ministry, under the leadership of the virtuous George Fernandes paid $2,500 for a $175 casket is one part; but it takes some gall to make money out of coffins. The chant “coffin-chor, gaddi chhor!” has become part of the political litany, and George Fernandes will hear it again when he weaves through Uttar Pradesh to ask for votes for the BJP. The BJP will hear it even when George is busy elsewhere.
The government is trying to achieve a number of inter-related objectives through 13/12. The passage of the anti-terrorist law is part of a package that is expected to deliver Uttar Pradesh in the crucial assembly elections ahead, along with some strident rhetoric against madrassas, a convenient way of broadening the attack on minorities. The politics of Kargil worked during elections because no one had any answers. This time, parties other than the Congress have an equally vested interest in the answers, like the Samajwadi Party of Mulayam Singh Yadav. He is going to deflect the demand for passage of the prevention of terrorism ordinance by pointing out that POTO is already law. He is going to agree about the involvement of Pakistan, and then point out that there are still hundreds of miles between the borders of Pakistan and the center of Delhi: why was the Home Ministry unable to stop terrorist activity in between? He is going to note that both the prime minister and the home minister publicly said and repeated that parliament was under threat. Why was nothing special done to protect it when government had the intelligence reports on its desk? If there was no intelligence failure this time, then there was administrative failure. That is common sense. The home minister has asked plaintively that if the Pentagon cannot be protected from suicide missions then it is impossible for any government to protect anything. One can understand admission of a one-time failure. Or even if terrorists succeed twice or thrice. But not when they punch deadly holes into the system time after time, and place after place — the Red Fort, the Jammu and Kashmir legislature, now parliament itself.
When politicians start running from their mistakes, they quickly discover two things: first, you can run, but you can’t hide. Second, you also run out of excuses.
